


Snowy Days and Ice Cream

by Louffox



Category: JackSepticEye (YouTube RPF), Markiplier (YouTube RPF), youtube - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe, Cute, Fluff, Ice Cream, M/M, Septiplier - Freeform, Wintertime, teeth-rotting fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-29
Updated: 2015-05-29
Packaged: 2018-04-01 19:17:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,379
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4031497
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Louffox/pseuds/Louffox
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>His eyes were big and blue- they were cold, but the ice in them did nothing to temper the energy and life he had. His hair was peppered with white like fresh snow, and his words were sharp and crisp as frost.</p><p>Mark didn't know what he'd gotten into. But he knew it was all worth it. He was worth it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Snowy Days and Ice Cream

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know how I'd never noticed this before. I started this today, and finished it today. I wanted to post it in several chapters, but decided this was the best way. I'm putting it on tumblr too. I hope that's okay. I'm fairly new to this shipping-real-people thing, not just fictional characters but actual peoples, and the last thing I would want would be to make any parties uncomfortable.
> 
> But. These two. I didn't mean to ship it. I didn't mean to. I guess I just sort of fell head-first into this dumpster of a ship.

It was a cold day- one of the types of days where the air is crisp and icy enough that you feel like you could snap it between your teeth. People hustled down the sidewalks, trying to get to their destination before the cold could penetrate the layers of down and felt they wore. All the sounds of the city were muffled with soft, fluffy snow. Cafes and coffee shops had long lines of folks with scarves and mittens, waiting for hot coffee or chocolate.

The only ice cream shop that was open had a single person in line.

Mark smiled and thanked the girl who handed him his ice cream. He wandered over to a bench in front of the shop and dusted off a spot to sit. He pushed his scarf down deeper into his peacoat, and dug into his ice cream happily, watching the people hurry and the snow drift.

He suddenly realized someone was sitting on the bench beside him. A round-eyed man with fluffy salt-and-pepper hair and upturned cheeks.

“Cold day for ice cream,” the stranger said casually, taking a bite of his own. “What did you get?”

“Rum raisin in a waffle cone,” Mark replied a little hesitantly. He’d grown up in cities and had gone to a large college- he was a little wary of strangers.

“Rum raisin? That’s old fashioned. You don’t look like you’re over sixty,” the man laughed. He had a rich, chipper irish accent that was pleasant to listen to.

“You know what they say about us asians, we age well,” Mark joked back, unable to resist socializing. “What’ve you got?”

“Cookie dough in a cone. So why aren’t you eating hot rum raisin bread pudding or something?”

“I like eating ice cream in the winter. You can really take your time and enjoy it, cause it’s not melting fast. And it’s negative feedback, you know?”

“Afraid I don’t. Negative feedback?”

“Yeah. Our bodies work with negative feedback. It wants to stay at a balanced 98.6 degrees. So when you eat ice cream, it lowers your body temperature, pushing it away from that balance. And then your body reacts- it sees your temperature going down, so it increases metabolism to produce more heat. For a few minutes, you’re cold from the ice cream, but I’m really just encouraging my body to produce more heat. I eat ice cream to push the balance down, and my body pushes back, to bring the balance up.”

“That’s brilliant. I mean, when you explain it, it seems obvious. But I’ve never thought about that before,” the man said, impressed. He held out a hand. “Jack, by the way.”

“Mark,” he greeted, awkwardly switching his cone so he could shake. “So why are you eating ice cream in the cold, if not for negative feedback?”

“I just really like the cold,” the man grinned. “I think it’s invigorating.”

“Makes most people sleepy, I thought.”

“Not me. It makes me feel alive and sharp, like every breath is a blast of waking-up cold air.” He breathed out a long stream of fog, smiling.

Out on the street, a car fishtailed lightly around a corner and drifted to a stop against the curb. A young man got out, looking shaken, on his phone. Mark could hear him asking someone to come pick him up.

“Jesus, learn to drive,” Jack grumbled.

“At least he’s got the sense to get off the road.”

“True. Didja see his back tires lock up? Last thing you should do when you’re sliding is slam on the brakes like that. What a doof,” Jack said, shaking his head.

Mark chatted with Jack for a long time, until his ice cream was long gone and the seat of his pants felt frozen to the bench.

They talked about driving, which led to Mark mentioning GTA. Jack’s eyes lit up.

“Video games! I love video games. I’ve been playing stuff a lot lately- I never did until about two years ago. Never really played any games at all, I don’t know how I went so long without ever really doing much gaming.”

“Really? I’ve been gaming since I was a kid. We should exchange gamertags, and play GTA or something sometime. COD maybe? You play zombies!”

“Yes I play zombies!” Jack cackled. “Gaming is the best thing since sliced bread!”

They traded gamertags, and Mark found himself spending nearly every night that week playing games with Jack. They both had headsets, and talked and yelled and laughed the whole time.

“You know, there’s supposed to be a snowstorm tonight. Fresh powder in the morning, and cold as all hell,” Jack said casually as they cut through another wave of zombies.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. And I was wondering if you would be going to get ice cream again.”

Mark realized what Jack was asking, and blushed, glad he couldn’t see his face. “I… you know what, I hadn’t been planning on it… but I’ve only got two classes in the morning, so I might do that. Maybe around 2,” he said coyly, grinning.

“Interesting.”

The next day, Mark arrived at the ice cream shop to find Jack already at the bench. He approached, and Jack looked innocently up at him with those big blue eyes, eating his ice cream left-handed. In his right hand, he had a waffle cone with rum raisin.

“You didn’t have to!”

“Have to what? I just bought myself two ice creams. Cookie dough and rum raisin. I got waffle cones for both- this bloke had a really good looking waffle cone last time I was here, and I figured, I wanted one.”

“Oh, so both of those are yours?” Mark asked, playing along.

“Yep! Both are for me. But… the thing is… I think my eyes were bigger than my stomach. I’m not sure I can eat this second one.”

“Really? Because you look like a high-energy type of guy, like you could put away a lot of food and run all day.”

“Well, that’s true. I do eat a lot. But I’m still not sure I can eat this second one too. These are both bigger than I thought… but it would be a shame to just throw this away. I don’t suppose you like rum raisin?”

Mark pretended to consider it. “Well. It’s certainly not _my favorite_ … it’s such an old person flavor… but you know what they say, waste not.”

Jack grinned widely and handed him the rum raisin. “I don’t suppose, since I gave you the ice cream, you’d give me your charming company? There’s room for two,” he said, sliding over and patting the spot beside him.

“I suppose I’ve got a little spare time.” Mark was grinning as well, by that point, and sat down beside him happily.

The conversation with Jack was so easy. Effortless.

“You said you had classes? You’re a student?”

“Yep. I’m going for a degree in bioengineering,” Mark said proudly.

“That’s quite something! Explains how you know so much about negative feedback. What year are you?”

“Second year. But the major is so dense that it takes most folks five years to do it. I could take summer classes, but I’d rather work during the summer.”

“What’s bioengineering about? I don’t know much about it- the only engineering I know much about it civil and mechanical.”

“Well, it’s like a combination of a pre-med major with a mechanical engineering major. When I graduate, I could work with anything a bio major would. And I’d be qualified for anything from medical device manufacturing, prosthetic engineering- not just prosthetic legs and stuff, but internal prosthetics like artificial hearts and livers and dialysis- or making biological analysis devices, like lasers and optics.”

“That’s intense. That’s like, anything bio-related ever. You must have to be absolutely brilliant to do that stuff.”

“I mean, I’m not the smartest in my class for sure. But I like to think I can hold my own. A lot of what we do isn’t memorizing, but it’s trying to come up with solutions for problems that don’t have a clear way to solve it. Never just rote math or anything, often it’s very derivative. We’re given a handful of equations, and given a problem, and we have to combine a bunch of equations and concepts to piece it together. It’s not something you can learn easily- you just have to hope you’ve got the skill to see how it all fits together.”

“Here I was, thinking you were just a gamer,” Jack laughed. “I’m just kidding, I could tell you were pretty damn smart before I knew you were a bioengineer. But that’s still really impressive. What do you want to do with it?”

“I don’t know, really. Not yet. I’ll figure it out, though,” he shrugged. He crunched on his cone, and shivered.

Jack glanced over at him, seeming to be having some sort of internal debate, before scooting over and putting his arm over Mark’s shoulders.

Mark smiled at him to show it was okay, and scooted a little closer to him.

They spent most of that winter together. They talked every day, either in person or on skype or the Xbox or on the phone. They played games and went out for ice cream, and did other things, too.

Jack loved to just walk around the parks, when it was frozen and covered with fresh snow. He loved to listen to Mark talk about anything, asking frequent questions. He was especially interested in biotechnology and computer technology, both of which Mark knew a lot about. He wanted to build his own computer, and happily educated Jack on the ins and outs of electronics and computers. He liked to talk about new developments in the medical community, and Jack latched onto those as well.

Mark loved watching Jack when he was out in the snow. They went ice skating once, and then Mark insisted they go at least once a week. On the ice, Jack was majestic. He could do all sorts of tricks and moves, and he could get going so fast Mark feared for his safety. Mark was awful at skating, but Jack was a patient teacher- he frequently laughed at Mark when he fell, but always helped him up and made sure he was okay.

Jack could also do wonders with snow. They built a snowman once, and then they built a snow-mermaid, and then Jack displayed a finesse with snow sculpting that Mark had never seen before. Mark denounced any and all art that wasn’t Jack’s snow art when he made a snow-cthulhu, complete with batty wings and multiple sets of eyes.

They frequently held hands. And after their third ice cream date, Mark kissed him. He tasted of everything fresh and cold and creamy and sharp. After that, they exchanged many more kisses, on foreheads and cheeks and hands and lips and shoulders and stomachs. They waited over a month before they moved their relationship to the bedroom, and their first time was slow and cautious, each frequently checking the other was comfortable, giggling at every misstep and then just giggling because they were happy.

A few weeks after their first time, they had their first time rough- Mark had just finished a week of exams and they’d not seen each other for nearly the whole week. Mark was full of adrenaline from finally being done with the exams, and Jack was full of want from not seeing him all week. They met like a thunderclap right in the doorway, mouths full of each other’s mouths, staggering into walls as they struggled to make it to the bedroom. They didn’t get there- they went hot and hard and fast right on the living room floor, Mark on his back with his legs bent up, and Jack folding around him. It was all sweat and breath, a frantic joining that left Jack with rug burns on his knees and elbows, and Mark rug burned on his back, and with some curious bruises on the backs of his shoulders. They looked like they were from Jack’s fingerprints, but were of a strange color that made Mark reminiscent of when a boy in his class got in a snowmobile accident and returned with bad frostbite.

They had first met on the bench, sharing ice cream and casual conversation, in late December. In March, Jack explained that he had to go north for a job. He didn’t talk much about what he worked- Mark had a vague idea he was a writer, but writers didn’t have to travel, did they? Mark asked, but the conversation turned to something about Harry Potter, and he never got back to it.

The last time he visited, it was mid-March, and his eyes held an ache and worry that concerned Mark, but he kissed him hard anyways, and finally said it.

“I love you,” he breathed, eyes open. He had to see Jack’s face when he said it.

Something ineffable passed across Jack’s face for an instant, before be beamed and squeezed Mark in a tight hug.

“I love you too,” he declared joyfully, pressing a mad flurry of kisses to Mark’s forehead and cheek.

“Come back soon, okay?”

“As soon as I can.”

. 

.  
.

.

.

.

.

.

.

Mark didn’t see him again until the end of October.

.  
.

.

.

.

.

.

.

Mark’s eyes opened blearily, blinking away sleep, confused. What had woken him?

Someone knocked on his door again, and he struggled free of the blankets, staggering to answer the door on autopilot. It wasn’t until he was turning the knob until he realized it was 11:30 and it didn’t make sense that someone was knocking on his door.

“Mark,” Jack breathed, and it was like fresh air after breathing stale humid heat for months. “God, Mark. I missed you. I love you. And I owe you an explanation.”

Mark sat down on the couch with him, knees folded up and chin resting on them, ready to listen. Jack sat gingerly, like he was ashamed- and he should be. Mark hadn’t heard a word from him since that day in March, when they’d first said they loved each other. Not a call or text or snapchat. His gamertag never appeared on Mark’s TV; his username never appeared on his skype.

“I… I don’t really know how to start. I’ve not really done this before, see. And I’m just… you’re going to get pissed, and not believe me, and maybe even ask me to leave. I just want you to listen and try to see that I’m telling the absolute truth,” he began shakily. He seemed disoriented and trembling, like he was ill. Mark asked if he was sick.

“No. I’m just… I’m not all here yet. And I’m probably only here for tonight-,” he held up a hand when Mark opened his mouth hotly. “-just let me explain, and it’ll all make sense.”

And so he talked. Mark forgot the hour, he forgot he was in his pajamas and was supposed to be hurt and pissed, he forgot he had class in the morning. He listened.

When Jack finished, he was staring intently at Mark’s face. Hopeful. Begging. Frightened. Worried.

“I believe you,” Mark said with a sigh, reaching forward and cupping Jack’s face. Jack closed his eyes with relief and leaned into his hand.

“I didn’t mean for it to get this serious. I didn’t mean to pull you in. I didn’t mean to hurt you.” His voice cracked on the last sentence.

“But… it sounds like it’s not your fault.”

“No, it’s not, it’s just who I am- and I don’t even want to say fault, because I don’t think it’s a bad thing, I love who and what I am, I wouldn’t want to be anyone or anything else- but I should’ve known better. It isn’t fair to you. For me, it doesn’t seem like anything. I’ve been… almost like… asleep. Since then. Not really asleep, more like nonexistent, but whatever I am during the spring and summer and fall, I’m not aware or time passing. It seems like just yesterday when you said you loved me for the first time. But I know you’ve had months of confusion and frustration and worry and all that shit, and it’s not fair and I’m sorry.”

“Jack, I forgive you. I really do. You don’t have a choice. I just wish you’d told me before you went away, that this was what was happening.”

“I know, I know, I’m sorry.”

Mark unfolded his legs and leaned forward, kissing him gently on the lips. When he pulled away, Jack moved with him a little, trying to extend the kiss.

“I’ve missed you too. So, if you’re back just for tonight....”

“Yes, just for tonight…”

“Does this mean I’m going to be shoveling my walk in the morning?” Mark asked coyly. Jack laughed and tackled him in a hug, into the couch.

“You little smartass…!”

When Mark went to bed, he slept soundly, with someone folded around his back once again. And when he woke, he was gone, and there was just moisture on his lawn where there had briefly been snow.

Mark saw him again, with increasing frequency. He became obsessed with the weather- downloaded a widget for his phone background that would tell him if it was supposed to freeze that night. At first, Jack only appeared for nights. He would be there on Mark’s step, always knocking, so polite, and he was shaky and feverish. He assured Mark it was normal- he was always jittery until he was fully settled. And Mark made the most of those nights, often tired the next day from staying up, refusing to waste a moment of their precious time. But eventually, he stayed for longer, and soon after Thanksgiving, Jack assured him he was truly there, until the spring came.

Mark was all more determined to spend time with Jack, now that he knew they had a sort of deadline. Jack moved in- he had a small flat on the other side of town that he kept for when he was around, and Mark didn’t want to spend any more time than necessary apart.

And so they loved.

When spring came, all too soon, Jack slowly faded out of Mark’s life, like the fall in reverse, and eventually he was gone. But Mark knew he’d be back, with the first snowfall.

And so they loved. Like that. The spring, and summer, and fall, they were painful and slow, each time Jack returned he apologized over and over again, and promised Mark he loved him, and Mark forgave him and kissed him to silence, telling him he loved him the way he was and never wanted him to change.

The spring and summer and fall hurt.

But the winters were theirs.

When Mark graduated, he found a job at an instrumentation laboratory in Maine. He had more time with Jack, that way, and that was what he wanted more than anything. Maine had a massively long winter- Jack often showed up early October, and stayed through April. Sometimes he had surprise visits in May. Mark was deliberately vague when his friends asked why Jack was gone for half the year, and nobody questioned him much.

When Jack proposed to Mark, the ring looked like it was made of frosted glass- a silver so white it was blinding, and when Mark was finished laughing and crying and kissing Jack, and he finally got settled enough to put it on, he felt it was slightly colder than his skin. It never warmed, remaining chilly, a bright, icy reminder that he would feel, no matter the season.

“Spring and summer weddings are so overrated,” Jack joked, brushing noses affectionately with Mark.

“Agreed.”

They exchanged rings and vows and kisses. They went to Quebec city for their honeymoon, and held mittened hands and explored ice castles and drank maple whiskey from glasses carved from ice, and made love beneath the northern lights.

Mark’s ring kept his left annular finger chilled for his entire life, and in the heat of the summers, he was often found twisting it around his finger with a melancholy smile.

Waiting for the winter.

Waiting for Jack.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> ((I wish Mark would talk about science more sometimes- I've just graduated with my degree in bioengineering and I'd love to know what he remembers. And I can so relate to the fangirling about grid paper- that's a very engineer thing. It's just so perfect and tidy.)
> 
> I hope you understand what it all means. I do so love my ambiguity, and I sometimes go overboard. I hope you liked it! I've got a handful of other Septiplier shorts I've written, all full of tooth-rotting fluff.


End file.
